


Lights

by squireofgeekdom



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squireofgeekdom/pseuds/squireofgeekdom
Summary: For a tumblr fluff prompt: Rung & Censere discovering something for the first time. Sunsets? Rainbows? How awesome hugs are? something small and goodRung and Censere, and the first sunset witnessed on Cybertron.





	Lights

“Look at the suns,” Censere says, with an outstretched arm that is still a little wobbly, just slightly unfinished, the joints on the fingers that pointed towards the horizon not quite fully shaped. 

 

Rung looks where Censere is pointing, where one of the three suns has just now drawn low enough to touch the horizon line. 

 

When Rung’s optics had formed and opened, he had seen the first sun just touching the horizon in much the same way. It had risen up into the sky as Rung’s mouth had formed, and had been followed by the other two suns as Rung’s limbs had slowly moulded themselves into existence. The suns had all been above the horizon when he’d at last been strong enough, propelled by the heat in his spark, to crawl on half formed limbs away from the point at which he had been forged. 

 

Under the piercingly bright blue sky, he had been utterly alone, with only the suns looking down on him, not knowing what, much less who, he was. 

 

The suns had been directly above him when his legs had become strong enough to walk upright, pulled by some unknowable tug in his spark, until he had finally found another glowing spark in the ground, liquid metal having just begun to creep up around it, the beginnings of a head just having started to curve together above it.

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He had said, as he had run a partly formed hand gently over the curve of the head, once the sphere had solidified. “You’re not alone.”

 

He may not know what he is, but here, there is at least one other person in the world like him, and that is good.

 

He is not alone, as he watches the sun cross the horizon and slowly disappear, as the other two draw closer to the horizon, chasing it, as they paint the sky in shades of red and orange. Now streaks of the sky match the colors slowly developing on Censere’s plating, and, as he looks down at himself, his own. 

 

Censere watches suns fall, watches the colors in the sky. His optics, only a few hours old, are wide with wonder as the last sun hovers above the horizon and he turns to Rung.

 

Then he frowns. “Are you cold?”

 

Rung hadn’t realized he was shaking slightly - the chill had crept into the air with surprising swiftness. “It would seem so.” He says, with a slightly chagrined smile.

 

Censere holds out an arm, and then looks at his own arm, as if surprised by the reflex. “Is this okay?”

 

Rung steps under Censere’s proffered arm, standing close enough to him that he can feel the warmth from his running systems radiating through his plating. “This certainly is warmer, thank you.”

 

Censere lets his arm rest gently on Rung’s shoulder, the plating on his fingers almost finished.

 

Rung reaches out to put an arm around Censere’s waist, “Is this okay?”

 

“It certainly is warmer,” Censere says with a smile, and Rung smiles back. 

 

He leans on Censere as they watch the last sun slip over the horizon, the sky too, slipping from orange and red to deep pink and purple. It’s the first time Rung has seen them with his optics fully formed. It’s even more stunning than the first blurry glimpses of the colors in the sky, and better, he thinks, as he looks at the light reflected on Censere’s face and the delighted glow in his optics, for being shared. 

 

Censere’s hand grips his shoulder as the last sliver of sun draws close to the horizon, and there’s a tremble in his plating that isn’t caused by the cold. Rung wraps his arm a little more tightly around Censere, hoping it’s some comfort. 

 

The sun disappears. 

 

There’s a moment where Censere seems to go completely still. 

 

Finally, as the last of the purple fades from the sky, Censere says, “it’s dark,” the tremble in his plating echoed in his voice.

 

Rung watches the sky, looks up, all the way up, to the highest point of the sky above them. 

 

“No,” he says, “there’s still light.” 

 

He points at the pinpricks of light in the sky, more of them coming into his vision as the sky grows darker.

 

“Oh,” Censere says, a soft exhale, as he looks up.

 

The new sky is born before their eyes as the last traces of sunlight fade away and the sky fills with the little pinpricks of light. On the far horizon, two new lights begin to rise, their soft glow quite unlike the piercing light of the three suns. 

 

“What do you think they are?”

 

“I don’t know,” Rung says, “I wonder if they’re like this,” he considers, pointing down at the planet they’re standing on.

 

“Like this…” Censere looks down at the ground. “Do you - do you think there could be others? Out there?” He asks, pointing at the largest of the two lights. 

 

“Maybe,” Rung says, squinting into the distance, looking to see if he could spot the blue glow, the one that had guided him to Censere, but the lights just glow softly back. 

 

Censere looks up at the sky again. “I think - I think they might be suns.” He says, watching the pinpricks of light. 

 

Rung looks up at the sky too, and he thinks - maybe there is something to what Censere is saying. There’s something similar, in the piercing quality of the light, just so, so much smaller. He tries to think about how much further away one of the suns would have to be to be that small.

 

“It would have to be a very big universe, then.” 

 

“Yes,” Censere says, staring up, full of wonder. 

 

Rung hopes Censere is right. He hopes they get to see it all. 

 

Censere smiles, sudden and bright, “there,” he points, and Rung looks where he’s pointing, follows the line he’s tracing with his finger between the points of light. “It looks like you - there, those ones are like your glasses.”

 

“My glasses?” Rung feels his face, finds the edges of the curved pieces around his optics. “Oh. I have glasses,” he says, and looks up at the stars, trying to discover what he looks like in the lines Censere had drawn. 

 

“There,” he says eventually, pointing to another part of the sky, “they look like your horns. And there, that’s your chin.”

 

Censere runs his hands over the back of his head, feeling the points there, and smiles. 

 

They watch the stars, the new sky seemingly unchanging but for the slow rise of the two orbs of light. 

 

“What happens now?” Censere asks quietly. 

 

In the darkness, Rung can see new blue lights, new sparks in the distance; new people for a new sunrise. 

 

He turns to face Censere, reaching up to put his other arm around him, “Is this okay?”

 

Censere nods, and Rung wraps his arms around him. Censere puts his arms around Rung as well; it is very warm. 

 

Rung has only had arms for a few hours, but this seems like a very good use to put them to. 

 

“I think,” he says, holding Censere, “we can stay here for a while.”


End file.
